Injured Boy
by NellyNoob96
Summary: Spiderman retreats to Gwen Stacy's fire escape in need of medical help. He's more injured than Gwen realises.
1. Chapter 1

I had this idea in my head about 3 in the morning, I had to write it down or I would go insane. Hang in there, I have a lot of other stories to continue and, I can't make promises, but I will try my best to complete as much as I can of them. This is my first Spidey fanfic. Be gentle with me if it's crap. Please read and review. Thank you and I apologize again for keeping you all waiting literally months for my other stories. Xx

Disclaimer: Any characters or plot lines you recognise are not mine. If they were, I would probably be famous. But I'm not, so.

-Gwen types furiously at her computer desk, her fingers slamming into the keys at top speed. Her eyes keep trained on the science project filling up the screen space and she tries to keep the mix of the heroic nerd's different possible fates out of her head. George Stacy had been called off during dinner to intercept a full-scale armed attack on the city; during which, people had caught glimpses of Spiderman swinging through Manhattan and dropping into the sewers. Her father, who had returned from the scene almost over 2 and a half hours ago, claims he had not seen the masked hero again that night. So where was Parker? He promised her he would always call when he slipped back in to his bedroom after a long night following police radios.

Gwen sighs heavily and glances at the clock beside her. 11:23. She runs her hand over her face exasperatedly and moves to save the project and cut the power off, when three dull thuds catch her attention. Peter fucking Parker is sat on her fire escape. She laughs airily and in relief and gestures for him to lift open the window and clamber in. She quickly flicks off the computer and aimlessly shuffles a pile of papers around on her desk. She begins to chatter about his responsibility to keep her informed on whether or not he dies on a job, and how she was beginning to assume the worst, when she turns in her chair to fully face the window.

Peter hasn't moved from his spot leant against the wall on the fire escape. The window is still shut tight. The red Spider mask is balled up in his fist and the only way to describe his face is… damaged. Gwen gasps and wrenches apart the glass frame from the sill, sliding out onto the grated metal and cradling Peter's cheeks.

"Peter? Peter?"

Her thumbs run over cuts and gashes, a deep blue bruise under his left eye. His eyes themselves are clamped shut and when Gwen raises an eyelid, there is no sign of life in the brown irises. Blood coats his jaw line and his neck and down over the hem of his suit. Gwen covers her mouth to hold back a scream and leaps back into her room. She hammers on her father's bedroom door in just her t-shirt and shorts, and the look on his face when he swings the door open is a cross between confusion and anger and surprise; and then concern.

"Gwen? Honey, what's wrong?"

"Dad! Peter. Robbery, I think… on the fire escape… he's hurt. Dad, you gotta help-"

"Gwen! Gwen!"

George grabs her shoulders as his wife stirs in her sleep behind him. Thank God she's a heavy sleeper. He places a finger over his daughter lips and hushes her.

"You gotta help him." She whines, tears in her eyes.

"Take me to him, Gwen."

George shifts the lanky teenager awkwardly through the window and holds him bridal-style against his body. The still-unconscious Peter's right arm and leg hang to the floor and George struggles to hold all six feet of boy. Dropping him as gently as he can on Gwen's bedroom carpet, he pulls at the lycra body suit to check for injuries. The fabric is impossible to control and he turns to Gwen, who has been hovering above them, crying silently and biting her nails.

"Get me one of my shirts and a pair of sweatpants. Quickly, Gwen. Then close the door. I need to change him outta this damn thing."

Gwen disappears and reappears with a bundle of clothes. She is pushed reluctantly out into the corridor and George can hear her snuffling the other side. He peels off the rest of Peter's suit and his jaw drops his torso. Already-dried blood coats his chest and neck, darkening into a clotted lump around a wound near his diaphragm. George pauses for a long moment, eyeing up the wound- gunshot?- then jumps into action. He pushes Peter's limbs as gently as he can into the sweatpants and shirt, and as the fabric is pulled over his head, the boy jolts back to life. He gasps for air and groans loudly, clutching at his chest and squirming under George's grip. George clamps his hand over Peter's mouth and mutters at him to calm down. Peter's eyes are wide and unblinking and his breathing is ragged against George's palm, but he quietens as best he can.

"I need to clean the wound, Peter. _You_ need to be quiet."

Peter nods once as George unbuttons the shirt to get a better look.

"I'll be right back."

George slips out of the room and Peter's vision spins as a commotion arises in the hallway. His impaired hearing picks up snippets of a hushed argument;

"…you're not-"

"You don't understand, I have-"

"Gwen, no-"

"…don't care-"

"Gwen!"

Then the door swings wide open and Gwen breathes heavily in the doorway. She stares, horrified, down at Peter; barely conscious, his torn chest, the way his head sways dangerously and the dullness of his eyes. She drops to her knees beside him and holds his face in her hands again. He sadly smirks up at her, squeezing her elbows. He mouths her name and she hugs his head to her, the tears falling again. Her father appears by her side and prises Peter out of her grip; their hands remain tangled strongly together.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the feedback to the first chapter! It's only a two-shot, so this is the last bit. It's very short, I'm sorry; but it's also 11:55 pm and I'm sleepy.

Soului- Yes, that's exactly what I thought! I really wish he had survived.

XxScarlettRosexX- Thank you very much!

Disclaimer: Again, not me. *sad face*

-Her face mushed into the pillow and the smell of dried salt water at her nostril, Gwen wakes to a dead arm. She shifts out of the uncomfortable position and shakes her dead arm out from underneath her. She brushes at the top pillow, a dark stain of water spread across the fabric. Gwen wipes under her stinging eyes and finds smudged make up and dried tears. The previous night's events come rushing back and she gasps, throwing herself out of bed and bolting down the hallway. Her father had insisted she slept in her own bedroom whilst Peter rested in the spare room; and no matter how much she pleaded, George would not let her stay with him. She opens the spare room door a crack, peering in.

Peter Parker lays flat on top of the duvet, covered only in a thin blanket. Her father had cleaned the wound as best he could, and Peter's bare torso is wrapped in thick white bandages. The bruise on his cheekbone is now yellow and pink, and the gashes on his cheeks are already mere scabs.

The ghost of a smile crosses Gwen's lips and she slips in and to his side. She sinks to her knees on the floor by his head and leans her chin on her arms. He stirs at the sudden tip in the mattress and automatically turns his head to the cause. The corners of his lips tug ever so slightly upwards and he blinks slowly down at her.

"Hey." She whispers.

Peter says nothing; he moves his arms to cup her neck and then jaw and cheek. He exhales deeply and ragged and coughs into the crook of his elbow. Gwen covers his hand with her own and tilts her head into his palm.

"What happened?"

"You came here last night, hurt. Dad fixed you up pretty good and you slept here. Well, passed out… here." She chuckles awkwardly and bites her lip, to which Peter lets out a pained chuckle and nods as best he can sideways.

"Peter, what the hell happened out there?"

Peter sighs, removing his hand from under hers and turning to look back at the ceiling. His eyes catch glow-in-the-dark stars and the remnants of sticky flowers and race cars. He smiles. It's an old nursery.

When Gwen mumbles his name again, he takes a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his chest.

"This was your room, wasn't it?"

"What?" He hears the confusion in his voice.

"The stars. And the flowers. It was your nursery."

Gwen frowns and follows his gaze, shaking her head in frustration.

"Well, yeah. My brothers' too. Why?"

"Cute. I don't remember my nursery."

Peter smiles gently at the decorations and reaches for Gwen's hand. She hastily wipes tears off her cheek before he can see.

"I don't really remember what happened. Last night." He pipes up out of nowhere and catches her by surprise. "I was scaling a building and a shot went off, and… I don't remember."

"Do you remember coming back here?"

"I remember you; your face; you saying my name. That's it."

Gwen smiles and strokes his face.

"That's nice, Parker."

"I was aiming for adorable." Despite his wounded, bedraggled state, the damn boy still manages to whip out a full puppy-dog-eyed gaze. Gwen laughs and kisses the back of his hand.

"Adorable too. You'll be okay, won't you, Peter?"

He grins and closes his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Course I will. I have you. Oh, and I'm Spiderman."


End file.
